


Allessfresser-Menchenfresser

by eternalfury1, Herz_Herz_HRZ



Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternative Universe - Mein Teil, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, DROPPING these tw's baby!!!! stay safe, Established Relationship, I hope oh god, It Gets Better Towards The End, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attack, Possessive Behavior, Sex, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide mention
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:00:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28154253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalfury1/pseuds/eternalfury1, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Herz_Herz_HRZ/pseuds/Herz_Herz_HRZ
Summary: //"You know you can tell me anything right?" Till said, his gaze steely. "I'm always here to listen." Flake felt touched, he opened his mouth to say something, part of him wanted to tell the truth. But he just couldn't. He couldn't let Till find out.Ever."Thanks." Flake said, giving him an appreciative smile." It means a lot. I'm here for you too, always."////Till has recently moved into Flake's house and is making himself familiar with his new home. Late nights spent in bed, tasty home-cooked food, the occasional intimate moments- everything should be perfect.Yet Till feels there's something off. As if there's something Flake's hiding.His tedious tendency for cleaning the house intensely every now and then, how secretive he is about what he does when he isn't home.Why this new-found passion of cooking? And what goes on during Flake's nightly walks?
Relationships: Till Lindemann/Christian Lorenz | Flake
Comments: 6
Kudos: 21





	1. Fleisch

**Author's Note:**

> Ever wonder what a Mein Teil AU might be like? Read and find out!

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Flake rested his head on his balled fists with adoration in his eyes and a loving smile. A few strands of his long hair fell in front of his face.

Till gestured for Flake to wait until he finished chewing and swallowed with an audible sigh.

“Yes, this is so good! It’s heavenly! Who even taught you to cook like this?”

Flake didn’t answer, but continued gazing at Till- his expression a mix of adoration, care and… excitement? Till couldn’t help but look twice- were his eyes betraying him? Why would Flake be excited over him eating?

But, _ there it was _ . Like Flake took pleasure in seeing his lover eating, expressing his enjoyment. Strange. 

_ Well, he is one horny bastard _ , Till thought. 

“Also, I forgot to ask, Where did you go to get this  _ wonderful _ meat from?”

  
"Oh, wherever I can. I'm not too picky from where I get my meat." Flake replied in an almost bored tone. He paused to put some potato on his fork. 

"Meat is meat after all."

  
"Yes, I suppose you're right." Agreed Till.

Flake gestured down at Till’s plate with a nod and asked; 

“Are you going to finish that?”

Till poked around with his fork for a bit, looking down at it all- the potatoes, the peas, the red wine sauce- and of course, the heavenly steak- a treat for all the senses.

He looked back up at Flake. Still that…  _ strange _ smile.

“I’m feeling quite full, thanks,” Till admitted “-and I’d be getting fat if I ate all of this.” 

“I wouldn’t mind that.” Flake said. He continued; 

“Such a good boy, eating all my food so eagerly. I’d let you eat me up, even.” As Flake ended his sentence, his eyes clouded and he smiled slightly at the table.

Flake’s eyes got a glimmer of something sinister-  _ hunger? _ \- and Till could tell, he was meaning what he said.  _ I’d gladly be eaten up _ , Flake said, _ in its literal sense _ .

Till shivered.

“No, no, I don’t think I would like that.” Till said hesitantly, a little worried of what Flake would say.

But Flake only laughed in response.

“Of course  _ you wouldn’t _ .”

Till shivered again. Flake spoke in such a matter, Till felt his partner was challenging him-  _ come eat me up, then, prove you can. Don’t disappoint me _ .

“Good boy. Eat up now, and we’ll be getting ready for dessert.” Flake said.

Till knew what that meant. Eagerly, he looked up, and asked Flake what they’d have.

Flake smirked and unbuttoned the button on the collar of his shirt.

“Me.”

*

Their dinners had almost always ended with them giving into desire and led to them tearing each other's clothes off and flake kissing him every inch of his skin almost reverently as if he was something to be worshipped.   
His favourite spot to kiss, however, was Till's neck, sometimes leaving biting kisses there. Till didn't mind though. The pleasant buzz of wine made everything feel so good. 

For such a skinny man with little to no muscle mass, his grip was quite firm, holding till to him as if someone was going to take him away from him.    
Soon their kisses and gropes would turn heated. Their kisses turned into open mouthed, with them both kissing desperately while gasping into each other's mouths. Their gropes would turn into flat out scratches and soon that would escalate into them both stumbling into Flake’s bedroom with them equally as hard and Flake fucking him as though his life depended on it. 

Till loved having Flake inside of him, his warmth spreading soon after. It was a nice feel. It made him feel safe and... strangely  _ comforted  _ in a way.    
Especially when Flake wrapped his arms around him and pressed him against his chest, when they were both sweaty and panting slightly. Till knew that Flake had loved him for a long while, and could tell by their making love- but he also sensed that there was more to Flake.    
_ Something more sinister and ominous. _

  
  


One night, Flake came home dirty and disheveled. The vague living room lights made it impossible for Till to tell what had stained Flake’s shirt. But, without better knowing, he didn’t bat an eye when Flake told him to look away. 

He couldn’t help himself from indulging in all that Flake was- all that he did, all that he said- and fell into his embrace without complaints.

Flake had become bare-chested.

And from the wash room came a smell Till had never sensed that strongly;   
Bleach.

With his speech muffled by sleep and Flake’s cold skin, Till clung to Flake’s shoulder to try and hoist his torso up. 

But Flake only pressed Till  _ closer,so close _ , so close Till could feel Flake’s heart racing and every deep breath that shook his chest.

“Where have you been?” Till managed to get out.

“Nowhere.”

“Where?”

“ _ Nowhere _ .” Flake spat. Till became worried- why was Flake upset?

“Come to bed?” Till whispered.

Flake was silent.

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

Till had an odd feeling in his chest. Why was Flake getting so defensive? Why was he coming home so late on most nights? A nasty thought came to his head as his eyes widened. _ Was Flake _ -?  _ No _ . Flake wouldn't do that to him. _ Not when he adored him so much _ .

“Are you alright?" Asked Till softly. "You look very stressed. Did something bad happen? Is it me? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, Till, my love. You can do nothing  _ wrong _ .” Flake said, almost painfully. 

The way Flake said ‘wrong’, like he spat out the word and it wretched upon his tongue, made Till stiffen.  _ What’s up with him _ ?

“ _ What? _ ” Flake said harshly. “What’s the problem?”

Till began to feel unsafe with Flake’s arms still around him and wrung himself out of his partner’s embrace. 

Flake softened and gently asked; “Should we go to bed now?”

Till shook his head, now frustrated.  _ Why the hell is he avoiding my questions-? _

“No! I want to know why you’re always out so late and show up disheveled, why you never want to talk about it, why you just expect me to be unbothered!  _ What the hell is it? _ ”

“Till-”

“Flake,” Till said slowly. “Are you  _ cheating  _ on me?”

Flake didn't say a word. It was that silence Till had learned meant he had something for Flake to ponder- or for Flake to judge.

Till fumbled for words when Flake interrupted;

"I'd rather be dead than cheating on you. Nobody could compare to you."

"That doesn't answer my question." Till whispered. Flake stared into Till's soul and smiled.

"I beat up nazis with some people. I wiped the sorry smile off their faces."

Till didn't know what to answer to that. Flake was so skinny, Till always had saved him- yet there he was, allegedly beating up fascists.

"But- how-?" 

Flake put his hand atop Till's mouth and signed for him to be quiet.

"To keep people safe. Like you, or I."

" _ Flake _ , I can protect myself-"

"Don't ask. Let's sleep."

And with that, Till knew Flake had ended the conversation. A light smile and head knack, as if to say 'let's sleep. No more questions.'

Till decided to let it go. He was simply too tired.


	2. Iss mich ganz auf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till grows more and more uneasy about Flake's midnight outings, and the strange look on Flake's face bothers Till more for every day. Can he uncover what lies beneath the increasingly fragile facade his boyfriend is clinging to?

Morning had arrived very fast, too fast for Till's liking. 

He wanted nothing more than to sleep in, however, worries had plagued him from the night before. Flake had been truthful to him, how he had told him that he would never cheat on him, and the reason why he came home so late was because he got into fights. 

But _ something _ really didn't sit right with him... _ why did Flake need all this bleach for his clothing stains when all he did was get into simple fights? _ Till's gaze lingered over Flake's sleeping body, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

_ Something was definitely off here. _

Wouldn't Flake be at least  _ a little shaken, a little exhausted _ , after fighting?

The adrenaline rush must've pumped him up, of course, but even as Flake got home, he'd seemed so weirdly calm. 

Like the adrenaline had run off him and he'd had the time to go eat a snack, dozing off in the night, and take a shit all before he'd peacefully trotted home and not being worried in the slightest about anything.

_ Something _ , Till thinks,  _ really isn't right. But I can't put my finger on what it is _ .

Nonetheless, he snuggled closer to the other man, putting both hands around his waist and resting his head on Flake's shoulder. He felt him stir.

"Good morning dear" said Till.

"Morning, Tilliebär." Flake said groggily, relaxing in his hold. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough, I guess." Replied Till, holding back a yawn. "And you?"

"I'm a little stiff," Flake stretched his legs out, his knees clicking and joints snapping. With a crack of his neck, he curled up again and placed his hand on Till's.

"-and I'm quite hungry. Do we have.. uh, cereal?" Flake asked and rubbed his eyes. "Hey, Till, could you let me go for a bit? I need my glasses- oh, thank you, I just gotta- alright." 

Flake heaved himself up by the elbow, and on his exposed back were scratch marks. Bruises, scars.

Till froze.

_ Jesus, he really did get into a fight. Or, maybe, he-? No. I don't think having sex could leave you looking like a freshly initiated gang member _ , Till thought.

"Till? What's going on?" Flake, hair strewn all over his pillow and tangled into a mess, turned over to Till. But before he could pull the blanket to himself and lean onto Till, Till grabbed the blanket and demanded Flake tell him about the scars on his back.

"Who did that?" Till's voice was low, barely a mutter- and dangerously calm.

"Nobody who can hurt me anymore," Flake stated nonchalantly "give me back the blanket, I'm cold."

"Flake," Till said sternly, "who the _ fuck _ did that?"

"Like I said; nobody who can hurt me now. I know that." With a reassured voice, Flake spoke calmly to Till. As if he was.. Indifferent.  _ Proud, even. _ Proud of what had happened.

And he seemed so certain of the 'I know that', Till didn't question him.

Flake was  _ different _ . Something had changed.

And Till knew that Flake was _ madly in love with him. _

"Remind me to give you a massage tonight, ok? I feel bad that I haven't been taking care of you enough." Said Till. Flake smiled faintly.

"Nonsense. There is no need, you're already doing so much and looking after me. Don't worry about me. If anything, I haven't been very good at remembering to cherish you lately." Said Flake.

Till shook his head. 

"That's not true, you absolutely spoil me and you know it." He laughed.

"I don't spoil you  _ nearly  _ enough. I don't think you understand just how much I want to worship you." Flake said, cracking his neck.

Till grew excited- whenever Flake talked about showing Till just how much he loved him, the sex was always great.

Till laughed again, his laugh lines prominent.

"I am not a god, Flake. There's no need to worship me." He snuggled closer to the other man, he grabbed one of flake's hands in his and his voice suddenly turned serious.

"You know you can tell me anything right?" Till said, his gaze steely. "I'm always here to listen." Flake felt touched, he opened his mouth to say something, part of him wanted to say the truth. But he just  _ couldn't _ . He couldn't let Till find out. 

Ever.

"Thanks." Flake said, giving him an appreciative smile." It means a lot. I'm here for you too, always." 

Till smiled and kissed his cheek, but Flake could see there was something like disappointment in his eyes. Flake wasn't stupid, he could tell that Till had wanted a different answer. An answer to what he was really up to.

“Now, how about we go get some of the cereal I mentioned earlier?” Flake smiled at Till and motioned for the other man to get off him. He rose from the bed and stretched his arms up into the air.

Till grunted, still not having let go of the question nagging away at his thoughts- what had really been going on?

“No, stay here. I’m not hungry.” Till whined. He lifted one of his arms to try and hold on to Flake as of to pull him back into a snuggle under the sheets.

“Well, _ I _ am, and-” Flake pulled one of Till’s big shirts over his head, momentarily cut short by the hems of the fabric getting stuck on his glasses.

Till sat up in the bed, rose with a light groan and put his hands on Flake’s fumbling arms, moving up to pinning his wrists together.

One hand on the small of Flake’s back, pulling him closer, the other letting go of his arms and joining the first hand on Flake’s back, Till mumbled;

“I don’t want any cereal, I want you.” Fully seriously, as if what he said didn’t sound completely ridiculous and very cliché.

That old nervousness hit Flake like a freight train and his speech became messy, the stutter dancing upon his tongue. He couldn’t come up with a clever comeback.

Till moved his hand to the back of Flake’s head and nearly bumped their noses together, voice low.

“Please?” He asked. “We can forget, if so for a moment. Do you want to?”

Flake put his hands on Till’s shoulders, running them up to his neck and lastly his jaw; and sighed.

“Yes, that’s a good idea, dear.”

“But,” Till said “shouldn’t you be careful with your scars-?”

“Weren’t we going to forget?” Intervened Flake with a minute tilt of his head.

Till couldn’t answer that. Because as much as he wanted Flake to tell him what was going on, he was after all the one out of the pair who’d said they were going to let themselves forget.

“That’s what I thought.” And with that, Flake leaned down and let Till’s kiss envelop him.

"You know, you look really cute in my shirts." admitted Till, catching lips in another kiss. "It's endearing."

Flake went pink. 

"Well, they're comfy! And it's like wearing a blanket. And-" he was cut off by Till giving him another kiss, but this time it was deeper. Flake made a little noise that was a cross between a whine and a squeak when he felt Till's tongue enter his mouth- no matter how many times Till did that, it always sent a nice tingle down Flake’s spine.

Flake sighed into the kiss before he guided Till back onto the bed and leaned into his lap.  _ Here _ , Flake thought,  _ I want to stay _ . 

_ Never go out there again, never moving. Only staying here, Till’s arms running long my back, his mouth pressed to mine. _

_ Relaxing, really. The best medicine is his love. _

"You have a bit of a chill" muttered Till with a slight frown. "Want me to warm you up?"

Flake raised his eyebrows as if to say  _ ‘really? That's the worst invitation to sex that I've heard from you so far.' _

"It was worth a try wasn't it?" Said Till cheekily. "I mean, you're starting to get hard here.'

Flake huffed out a laugh and shook his head good naturedly. "Very astute of you."

"You don't look very impressed. How dare, I tried my best at seducing you!" Till laughed.

"Oh, I don't think your words are what do me in. If that was the case, I'm afraid you'd have to speak your poetry to me at all times." Flake swept his hair away from his face.

"I don't focus on such superficial beauties. What matters is the soul" Once more, that strange expression, almost hunger-like, appeared in Flake’s expression.

As if Flake was eating Till whole with only his eyes.

Till looked away, uncomfortable. He really didn't like when Flake did that.

"Why are you doing  _ that _ ?" Asked Till, forcing himself to look back at Flake.

"What?" Replied Flake, looking baffled. Till averted his gaze again.

"Why do you look at me like that?" Till paused.

_ "You look like you want to eat me _ ."


	3. Krank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till's growing more and more suspicious of Flake's activities- and one night, Flake comes home, looking like he'd seen a ghost. It turns out that Flake ate something spoiled and thre up- but why is he asking all these strange questions?  
> What goes on underneath?

Flake scoffed and cleared his throat- though he seemed uncertain on the words, and he couldn't look Till in the eyes.

"W-what are you saying? I wouldn't eat y-you, silly." Flake managed an unsure smile. Was Till catching on-? _No, he couldn't be_ . _There is no way in hell_ , Flake thought, _or-? Shit, have I-? Did I do anything-? Fuck, fuck, fuck!_

"W-why would you think that?"

Till mumbled something inaudible, still turned away, in response. 

When Flake didn't ask any other questions, Till looked up wearily.

"That look you have, I've seen it from time to time. Like you want to eat me up." He finally said.

Flake didn't say a thing- mute from worry and silenced by panic. _What if-?_

"Like when I eat, or whenever you praise me. Like you did just now. You look like- fuck, this sounds so weird, but you really look like you want to eat me. Like, alive." Till managed to say. 

He worried Flake would think he was going insane, and his silence only worried Till further.

"N-no, what? I-I'd n-never eat... seriously, w-what? Why- I could never. I- you- I... I love you, Till. From the depths of my heart. I could never hurt you. I would never _eat_ a person I _love_. Then they’d be g-gone."

Although slightly relieved and calmed by Flake's denial, Till had a nasty thought gnawing away at his brain.

 _He wouldn't eat me, no, because he loves me_ , Till thought. _As he says._

_But does that mean-? With a person whom he doesn't love-?_

_No. It can't be._

_I refuse to believe it._

_That's impossible, that's insane. I'm sure he's just.. horny. Or something-? Fuck, fuck. I might just be going mad._

Till let his forehead rest on Flake's left shoulder. He needed to try and relax.

"Sorry, I'm being stupid aren't I?" Till said softly. "I'm probably just seeing things."

Flake relaxed just a fraction at that.

"No no, you're not stupid. I just really adore you, that's all. I'm sorry if I scared you, I didn't mean to.”

Till stroked at his back softly before answering. 

"Don't worry about it. Perhaps I’ve not been getting enough sleep.”

Flake was relaxed now, mostly from Till's stroking. 

_That was a close shave_.

"You know, I can never really entirely understand you, but that's another reason I love you. You're not like other people, you're exciting." Said Till, nuzzling his shoulder. Flake still said nothing, listening to Till intently.

"And most importantly of all: you're mine." Till purred. "And no one else's.”

  
**   
  
  


It came suddenly.

Till had been sitting and painting when Flake stumbled into the room, almost losing his footing. With a ‘hey, how are you?’ Till stood and escorted Flake to a chair, and continued asking if something was wrong.

He saw how Flake’s skin was pale and almost transparent. The long brown hair was tousled and dirty, his hands sore and red.

Bloodied knuckles.

But, what caught Till’s attention, and unnerved him to the core- was Flake’s dim eyes. Not only his eye whites, but his irises- hell, even his pupils- had tinted a shade of red. Flake was staring into space, almost completely dissociated from the world.

“Flake, what’s wrong? You look sick.” Till asked worriedly and brought a wet towel to Flake’s face, dappering on his lips and cheeks. Flake moaned a sound of woe and furrowed his eyebrows over his partially closed eyes.

He didn’t look at Till- his gaze was nearly rolled back into his head.

Flake closed his eyes.

“Flake, please. Dear. You’re cold.” Till grew more concerned with every word Flake didn’t say and felt his heart speeding up. _What’s wrong? Is he sick? What happened?_

Still no answer but a silent wail. A forced, ragged, breath. Flake opened his eyes again and looked up at Till.

But he seemed to look right through him.

“Flake, seriously! What are you doing? Are you ok?” Till was nearly panicking, though his panic expressed itself as a harsh irritation- and Flake returned to the world only to find Till right in front of him, with his hands on his face.

“What- what are you talking about?” Flake was confused. Why was Till so upset? Hadn’t they been sleeping?

A peek to the watch on one of his wrists was like a punch right in Flake’s face. Eleven fifty-three in the night. And, in the shine of the lights on Till’s desk, Flake saw what Till was so upset by.

_My skin. Fuck._

Frantically scrambling to try and remember what had happened, the memories clearing up and piecing together, Flake realized it was the first time Till saw him in that state.

Flake had been there before- the red eyes, the paleness, the challenged breathing- but he’d always taken a painkiller and snuck back into bed and slept it off so Till wouldn’t notice.

Now, however, he’d fucked up.

_How the fuck am I going to avoid telling him the truth?_

“Flake? Oh god, you’re not dead. Oh thank god you're alright.” Till breathed out a sigh of relief and lightened his grip on Flake’s cheeks.

 _He‘s really upset_ , Flake thought. _Fuck, fuck, fuck! I don’t want to lie to him anymore, I wanna tell him the truth-_

_But I never will. I just can’t._

Flake closed his eyes, and suddenly- remembered. 

_ The drunken man with a bottle in his hand came charging towards me and made an impresssive effert to smash my head in. Luckily, he fell, and I heard his skull crack and a horrific sound emerged from his mouth. Not the first time I've been attacked, not the first time the attacker ends up hurt. _

_ His bottle had lodged itself in his ribs and broken the fragile skin around his ribs- it was easy for me to do my business as he lay dying by my feet, digging my hands through his bones and his blood. _

_ I don’t care. I’ve been here so many times before that I’m not affected anymore. _

_ My hands red, the blood of his veins seeping from my mouth- then I realized.  _

__

_ He’s raw. I’m so stupid, god, I could get killed by eating raw flesh!  _

_ He’s uncooked, I think, I can’t eat this. _

_ I hurried away, I unlocked the door to my home- luckily nobody was out to see me running up the boulevards like a vulture, nor my boyfriend awake when I burst through the hall. _

_ I pushed my way into the bathroom and forced myself to puke up the contents of my own- and another man’s- stomach into the toilet. _

_ Fuck, I thought, I hope my darling’s asleep. _

_ I thought of him. What would he think of me if he ever found out? _

_ I love him, I thought as I looked into the mess of my own vomit and the toilet water. I don’t want to lose him over this shit. _

_ I flushed and stood up to clean myself in front of the mirror, and thought; what the hell am I now? I have another person’s blood running down my chin. _

_ I’m a monster. _

“Flake? Please, please, just answer me. You look so sick.” Till was nearly crying and his desperate tone made Flake hate himself.  _ I put myself and him in this shit, I pay. _

With a low thud, Till sank to his knees and held Flake’s hands in his. His kicked-puppy expression and the almost-shaking chin stinged in Flake’s chest, made him think-  _ Till doesn’t deserve this. He’d be much better off without me. _

The little strength that remained in Flake after puking disappeared as Till laid his head on Flake’s lap, hands still loosely intertwined. 

He cried softly in the silence, his tears running through his stubble, across his lips, past his chin and lastly, stained Flake’s jeans. 

Till’s tiredness, the intensity of trying to finish today’s painting before midnight, the despair and unknowingness of whether Flake was okay or not, the worry that had been gnawing away at him for the past weeks- it all became too much.

It poured into Flake’s lap.

“Till… I-I’m ok. I just a-ate something bad.” Flake managed, placing a hand on Till’s head and stroking his hair.

“F-Flake, what did y-you eat?” Till whispered, the fear clear in his eyes. _ What if _ , Till thought,  _ what if I was right, and he really does eat-? _

“I don’t k-know. I must’ve e-eaten it earlier t-today, because I was on a w-walk and,” Flake’s breath hitched in his throat “I started feeling very i-ill. So I came b-back here and puked.”

_ At least a small fraction of the truth,  _ Flake thought,  _ because I did eat something strange for dinner at that restaurant we were at.  _

_ But, I wasn’t out walking. I would rather say- hunting. _

“How are you now?” Said Till gently, relieved. He tilted his head up and placed a hand on Flake’s knee for support.

“Uh… tired. I need to sleep, I-I think.” Flake closed his eyes again.  _ I kept him unknowing once again, but I can tell he’s getting suspicious. I wonder what’ll happen when he finally catches on. _

_ If it comes to that, and he does leave me- for what reason would I carry on?  _

_ What if he wouldn't go? Would I keep on with this twisted game, would I even have the strength? _

“Shit. I feel like… I feel like a silly schoolboy in love.” Flake huffed. Till chuckled, mildly confused, but glad Flake was returning to his regular humorous self.

“Why?” Till asked with a smile.

“Because I feel like I couldn’t go on without you. I really don’t want to lose you.” Flake admitted.

“I don’t think I’d leave you for anything,” Till became serious “so, you could tell me anything. I wouldn’t go.”

“Are you-are you certain?” said Flake. “What if I was the worst person in the world? What if I’ve done some abhorrent, unspeakably evil things? Would you still be with me then? Would you listen to your conscience or follow your heart?” 

“What are you saying?” said Till, his eyes widening slightly in panic. “Why are you saying all these things?”

“In theory of course.” said Flake hurriedly. “Hypothetically speaking.”

“Oh right.” said Till, relaxing. 

“Well...My answer wouldn’t change, because I love you that much.” 

“But, Till, why?” Flake felt tiredness approaching and wanted nothing but to sleep, didn’t want to ask more questions. Yet he carried on, to lull himself into a sense of security;  _ ‘no, Till wouldn’t leave me. He says he wouldn’t.’ _

“Why are you asking?” The fear started creeping into how Till spoke and how he looked at Flake yet again.  _ What the hell is he getting at? _

“Because I’ve seen people sticking with their partners even after they’ve done horrible things, and it makes me anxious because I wonder what the other would think if you or I did something horrible, too.” The exhaustion from the night catching up to him, Flake sighed as he continued on speaking. He muffled a yawn. 

“It’s just- my thoughts get to me.” Was the conclusion.

“Hm, yeah. But, hypothetically speaking- I would stay. I would.” Till was still a shade of scared, on some deeper level of consciousness understanding that it  _ wasn’t just a hypothesis _ . Something sinister was taking place in the depths of Flake’s tired eyes.  _ But what? _

“Ah. Let’s go to bed then. Help me up?” Their hands locking, Till heaved Flake up from the chair and held him close for a moment.

The room was silent.

Flake couldn’t believe he’d gotten away, but at the same time so _ desperately  _ wanted Till to know of the weight that burdened Flake wherever he went.

Till had started to grow scared of Flake, but felt they grew closer at the same time.

Though Flake so direly wanted to tell and Till so direly wanted to know- one day, the bubble was designated to burst, Flake thought. 

_ And what is to be revealed isn’t pleasant. It’s ugly and wretched, it’s sickening and disgusting.  _

_ I’m a monster. I’m repulsive, I’m evil, I’m the antagonist, I’m fucking insane. _

_ But I’m his. And that’s... what keeps me sane. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry christmas from us to you! Thank you for reading and especially for leaving kudos and comments. We'll see you soon! <3


	4. Forgive me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Till wakes up in the small hours of the night to find a distinct lack of Flake beside him. Where is it that he's gone? The kitchen is empty, the living room lacks life, and in the bathroom there couldn't be less people. Flake shines with his absence- where could he be? Till's left confused and increasingly worried as he scans their house.
> 
> That is, until he stumbles upon a door he's never seen before. What hides at the foot of the staircase he unravels inside?  
> And by god, what is that awful smell?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we planned on posting this on jan 1 but life happened and y'all are getting it now. enjoy  
> Disclaimer: we do not condone violence!! This is purely a work of fiction and is nothing we'd like to see in real life.

Till had gotten into the habit of getting up really late lately. But, sometimes, he’d wake up in the hours of the night.    
It was on one of those nights when he woke and felt restless.   


He could feel somewhat damp blankets and sheets when his body started coming to.    
Perhaps the sex was so good it took him hours to recharge so he slept as long as he could?    
Till groaned and reached out his hand to feel for Flake beside him, only to touch more bedding. 

Flake must have gotten up before him to go and eat. Till sighed and reluctantly got up out of bed, stretched his sore muscles and made his way to the kitchen.    
"Flake?" He called out. No response. Till looked around the kitchen, he wasn't there. He checked the bathroom, spare room and living room.    
Flake wasn't in any of those.    
  
Now Till started to worry. He rushed around frantically trying to find Flake.    
After a while he stumbled upon an open door, and with effort Till pushed it ajar- that was one heavy door- to be greeted by a set of stairs leading down somewhere deep.    
Till was puzzled, Flake had never shown him this part of his house before.    
_ Why hadn't he? _

Till debated whether or not to go down the descending staircase. His curiosity got the best of him and he headed off downstairs. It was a fair way down and it started to get darker- Till started to wish he’d brought a torch.    
Just then he could very faintly make out two large doors.  _ And by god, the smell. _

Till pushed the heavy doors open, yet again with a great effort, and what greeted him was an _obscenely large room with meathooks, some with dead bodies, some with half a dead body on them._   
Till noticed that some of them looked almost fresh, as if they were only a few days old.   
  
Till suppressed the urge to vomit, pressing his fist to his face.   
He scanned the room- _and there stood Flake with a knife in his hand in front of a dead body_. He raised his knife and started cutting open the corpse's stomach. 

Till let out a short scream, then quickly covered his mouth in horror. Turning around to inspect the noise, Flake spotted Till there, all pale with fright. He smiled warmly.    
Till wanted to smile back, but the blood that was splattered all over Flake’s cheek made him look too horrifying and intimidating to let a smile form on Till’s face.    
  


Something primal in Till roared at him to  _ run, run for his life, save himself- _

"Ah, Till! I'm so sorry. I didn't hear you come in. Welcome."

"What-what the fuck is this, Flake?!" yelled Till hoarsely, looking around in horror at the many dead bodies hanging all around him.    
He wasn't one to get so easily shaken. But this- this was all too much. 

"What the fuck have you done?!" Till shouted. And although his thoughts were racing, he could make out one distinct observation-  _ I was right. Jesus fucking christ, I was right. _

Flake sighed as he put down the knife on the table next to him.    
"I'm sorry." He simply said.    
Till looked at him in astonishment.    
"Sorry?" He croaked. "Is that all you've got to say? After killing all these people?"   
"I should have told you before." Flake said, holding his arms out as if to hug him, but Till stepped back, shaking his head. Flake sighed once more. 

“When did you start all of...this?" Till gestured to the gory sight around them.    
"...A while back," said Flake absent-mindely "-I can't remember when, though."    
"Why would you kill all these people? What-what's wrong with you?" Till said, still looking at him in horror. "All these innocent people-" 

"They weren't innocent." Flake interjected quietly. Till looked at him quizzically.   
"Take a close look at this man's sleeve." He said, gesturing for Till to come closer. Till cautiously walked over and looked at the said man's jacket sleeve. Among the blood drenching his coat and the guts on display- there, it was.  
_A swastika._   
  
Shocked, Till turned towards him.   
“You remember how I once told you I beat up nazis?” Flake was wearing a small smile on his face. Till couldn’t manage a sound.  
“Now, I’d rather say I _eat_ up nazis.” Flake’s smile faded and he shook his head.

"None of the people here on these hooks are innocent. Some are predators, others are nazis particularly interested in hate murders, some are rapists and abusers.” Flake gestured out at the room with a swift motion of his hand.    
“People whom I know for sure have done their deeds. Nobody innocent deserves being killed." He added.   
An inner conflict went on in Till's head.  _ So, he only kills bad people..? But it’s still murder...and yet these people deserve it.  _

"I know what you're thinking. You're conflicted." Said Flake, stepping closer to him. Till made no move to run, which Flake took as a sign to wrap his arms around him as he normally would.   
In a normal place. In their living room, in bed, when they watched a movie.   
_ Not in a dark and dirty basement, dimly lit by a few ceiling lights- with bodies on meat hooks and with blood on Flake’s hands. _

"Are you going to call the police on me?" Flake said quietly into Till’s hair.    
Till swallowed thickly.    
"No. Not if you're only killing scum."    
Flake smiled.    
"Good. Are you afraid of me?"    
"No," said Till with a moment of hesitance.    
"Never."    
"I would never hurt you." Flake said, tilting Tills head up for a kiss. "You're the most precious thing in my life. I love you so much." He buried his face in Till's neck.

"From your laugh to the cute face you do when you cum."    
"Shut the fuck up would you!" Said Till, turning red. "This is not the place to talk about…  _ that _ ."    
Flake chuckled mischievously.    
"We could fuck right here."

"In front of dead bodies?!" Said Till in an unnaturally high pitch.   
“Are you out your fucking mind-?”    
"I'm joking, Till. Come on, let's go up. I bet you're starving. Should I cook you some food? Meat perhaps?" 

"Is that why you put them down here? To cut and gut them to feed to me and you?" Till vomited a little in his mouth when he looked at the bodies on tables and hanging from the ceiling. _ Have I eaten any of that? _   
Flake paused, an unreadable expression was on his face.    
"How did you know?"    
"As soon as I saw the bodies." Till shrugged. "And the fact you don't have any receipts for the meat you "bought." It's not hard to put two and two together."    
"Hmph. Were you disgusted?"    
"Definitely. Which is why I almost vomited before." 

"Strange. I thought I was being careful." Said Flake. He walked over to a sink just by the entrance to the room that Till hadn’t noticed before.   
“But, just so you know,” Flake turned around, his tone serious “-you’ve never eaten a human. I made normal steak and such for you.”   
He took off his glasses and turned a handle on the tap- the sink coughed and spat out a few water drops until there was a steady, although cold, stream running.

Flake cupped his hands and splashed water onto his face. He'd discovered an old shower in the basement too, which was perfect for him, as he could go about his business- and get cleaned, so Till wouldn’t notice.   
  
_ Yet my eyes spoke for my mouth. They gave me away. _

“Flake, this- the smell is going to kill me. How do you even- reside, or  _ work _ , here?” Till puked a little in his mouth again.    
Flake spit a little water out his mouth and fumbled for his glasses.    
“I clean it every month. Bleach, soap, water. If we ever were to take visitors, we should take them at the start of every month. The place is squeaky clean then.” Nonchalantly undoing his ponytail and reaching for the knot on his apron, Flake looked in the mirror and saw the few blood stains still left on his cheek.   
  
“As for the bodies- there are a lot of stray dogs in town and I feed them the remains.”   
  
“Till, dear, would you undo my clothes? I need to clean myself.” Flake turned his back to Till and extended his arms above his head.   
“Mind showering with me?”   
  
“Fuck in front of corpses, you mean?” Till asked, hands fumbling at the knot on Flake’s apron. He was still distraught from the sight around him.   
“I guess you could say so,” Flake commented “take off your clothes.”

“So, you clean whenever we have visitors? So they never get to see your… workplace.” Till asked hesitantly as he began to pull his shirt over his head.

“Till, look at these people. I murdered them. This isn’t a workplace, this is a slaughterhouse,” Flake gestured at the room angrily.   
“I robbed them of their futures, I put out their lifelights.  _ I ate their remains. _ ”   
He breathed in for a second, calmed down a little and added;   
“No, nobody except for you and me has been here alive.”

Till was taken aback by Flake’s sudden outlash. It was almost as though Flake had a brief moment of regret, dread, seeing the reality of what he’d done- then just like that, it was gone.

And Till couldn’t help but shudder at the way Flake said ‘alive’, as if he wanted to accent that everybody in the room was dead.   
Except for the butcher himself- and by accident, his boyfriend.

“But- what does it feel like? Being here all alone?” Till asked.   
Flake was casually unbuttoning his shirt- blue with white stripes, Till noticed. It was one of the shirts at the back of the closet he thought Flake never used.

“I’m insanely dissociated from what goes on down here,” Flake said “but when I come to, the reality of it all makes me so scared. So scared of myself. I realize I’ve killed people, I want to turn the knife on myself.”   
Flake put his hand on his forehead, as if to run it through his hair.    
  
“I’m a monster, holy hell. Fuck.” Flake stated. He felt tears gathering in his widended eyes, shut them quickly, and felt his heart sinking- _ fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m a monster! _

Flake leaned against the cold tile wall checkered with a white-turqiose pattern. He let his eyes open for a moment and saw the naked lights in the roof shining upon the grotesque scene of dead bodies and filing cabinets with boxes with the disquieting names of several body parts- ‘brain’, ‘guts’ and ‘excess’. ‘ _ Teeth’. ‘Jaws’.  _ _  
_ _ ‘Bones’. _   
  
_ How the fuck did this happen,  _ Flake thought, _ -when the fuck did I decide to start eating people? I was just an ordinary man doing ordinary things- and that ordinary man still remains somewhere inside- I can still feel emotions, I was so happy when Till moved in. I was fulfilled and felt a spark of hope, I thought it was a new start.  _ _  
_ _ That I’d stop. _ _  
_ _ Or, maybe that ordinary man is only a trick of the light? A facade I trick myself into believing in?  _

_ Is being a fucking serial killer the deepest part of me? I’ve promised myself to stop so many fucking times, I’ve fucking hoped and prayed I could leave this shit behind. _ _  
_ _ I’m the problem. I don’t deserve to get away with this, I deserve to rot like the corpses in this hellhole basement.  _ _  
_ _ I wish I could die and have all the people I’ve slaughtered come alive again. Even though they’re horrible scum, the most pathetic fucking beings I’ve ever encountered. _ _  
_ _ Yet. I have become one of them. One of the people who do the unspeakable. _

_ A fucking murderer. _

“Flake? Are you okay?” Till turned to Flake to see his boyfriend sliding down the wall and hyperventilating uncontrollably.   
Hands gripping his hair so hard the skin curled around his knuckles until it became white, shoulders rising rapidly and never seeming to drop, hisses passing through his gritted teeth- it was quite an unnerving sight. To see such a perfectly composed man be brought down a panic attack was very unexpected.    
  
Till wrapped his arms around the man and held Flake tightly and rubbed his back soothingly until he started to calm down. 

Flake took his hands from his eyes and clung to Till’s shoulders, his grip noticeably tired from the panic attack but still holding onto Till as if his life depended on it.   
He still looked panicked. Till wondered if his panic attack was due to the fact that he had finally confessed his dark secret to someone and it just had overwhelmed him.

“Can I ask you something?” Asked Till quietly, still holding the man,

Flake looked up at him for a moment, then nodded.

“...When is it that you started eating people?”

Flake froze. He knew this question would come up, how could it not?    
“To tell you the truth, I don’t exactly remember. I know that i’ve been doing it for a very long time however.”

“I see. And I’m even more curious as to how you got the taste for it.” said Till, his voice filled with curiosity.    
“It isn’t as if you can go up and take a bite out of someone's arm.” he added jokingly. Flake laughed.

Flake could tell that this was going to be a long night and that Till would have many questions for him. He could at least answer them all, he owed his boyfriend that much.

“I’m open to anything you’d like to ask, but I want to quit. I don’t want to eat people anymore.” Flake sighed.  _ It’s all gonna be ok, Till’s gonna help me. I don’t wanna do this anymore.  _   
  


“And to answer your current question, when I was a kid, one time I tripped and fell and I must have bitten into the skin of my arm. I can’t remember the details though.” Flake chuckled. He felt lighter now, his panic attack almost gone.    
“No, I’m just kidding. I never did that.”

“Are you feeling any better now?” asked Till, kissing the crown of his partner’s head.

“Somewhat, yes.” replied Flake, giving him a small smile.   
  
“I’m going to change, I swear. I don’t wanna do this anymore.” Flake said and began trying to stand up, but Till kept his arms closed around him and wouldn’t let him go.

“Would you still like to take a shower?” Though the question was aimed at Flake, Till felt he asked himself the same- he still felt sick to his stomach from the gruesome view in the basement and the smell he’d been fighting for his whole visit was growing stronger by the minute.   
Till looked down and puked a little in his mouth. He’d gotten dried blood on his arms and bare chest. 

“Yeah. I want to wash this all off of me.” Flake said. But the meaning behind his words remained hidden- what he  _ wanted _ his words to tell Till was that he was ready to wash all the gruesome and ugly, wretched and abhorrent, off his consciousness and begin a new life.   
What his words  _ said  _ Till, however, was ‘wanna fuck in front of corpses?’.    
But Flake never wanted that.    
He wanted to undo his actions. Leave the past behind.   
  


Flake didn’t want to ever walk into the basement and see a dead body again. He never wanted to even  _ see  _ the basement again.    
_ He needed to accept what had happened, and that it happened, but condemn that he did it. _   
  


Jagged roof. Lights dimming as Flake closed his eyes.    
_ Forgive me. Exempt me. _ _  
_ The steady beating of Till’s heart when he embraced Flake once more.

_ Forgive me. Please. _

A few tears singling down Flake’s cheeks.

_ Forgive me. Let me relinquish this. _ _  
_ Silence.    
Nobody has been here alive except for you and me.

_ Forgive me. Let me be an ordinary man again. _ _  
_ __  
_ Please forgive me. I’ll never ask anything else. _ __  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S FINALLY POSTED WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


	5. Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After nearly a month of avoiding the basement and never digging into the memories of what he's done, Flake breaks down one day. He realizes he can't live with himself, and most importantly what he did, anymore- what will he do?  
> Why does he want to dissapear into the spring outside?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so tired and I have once again whored my soul out and poured my heart into a chapter that literally nobody reads. Here, the 13 people who left kudos, this is for you babes :)) <3
> 
> If you're suicidal or have thoughts about suicide, don't read this chapter. Read something uplifting and happy instead. Please remember that somebody out there, whether you know it or not, cares about you. You're worth it. Reach out for help- it's never too late.  
> Again; we do not condone violence. If you're having thoughts about hurting yourself or others, please reach out. There is help to get, and we care. The way we portray these people in this story isn't based on how they are in reality whatsoever.  
> These charafters are twisted as fuck tbh. I write this story, look at it, and think; yeah, that's royally fucked up. Then I write more because I'm a clown
> 
> //Herz

_Shh, shhh.  
Wind flows through the tree crowns and the sprouts on new bushes, stroking the grass and whispering in the air. It carries a message of the promises of summer to all who wants to hear, it melts the last snow. Spring comes and spring goes, forever and ever. Spring doesn't last but spring will come back.  
Sometimes, good things don't last. But good things come back.  
  
_ **PART I**  
  
Spring was creeping out of the earth outside. A warm breeze was rustling in the trees and birds had started building nests with the debris from autumn the melting snow had revealed.   
Early morning, not yet too warm. The sun was peeking out above the trees and slowly spreading a warm glow over the city.   
The curtains were closed.    
  
But someone was awake.   
  
The restless one didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to slip out of the cool comfort of the blankets, though the blankets were getting warmer and stuck to sweaty skin. A trap of comforting feelings, a temporary shield against feeling lost, feeling lacking.    
  
The sun was shyly trying to break into the darkness through the slim gaps between the curtain, the window frame and the wall. It got lost, couldn’t warm the room inside.   
  
Eventually, the restless one pushed the blankets off himself and laid naked, exposed to the room, for a few moments. He scratched his cheeks and found dry flakes down both of them.

Crying in his sleep. Another night, once more.   
  
It had almost become routine- waking up after crying all night long, passing the hours in a daze, either drinking or staring at a wall for hours. Crying and hyperventilating before bed. Falling asleep after an hour of reassurance.   
He couldn’t walk past the basement door anymore.   
  
Flake was tired. Not the I-just-woke-up-and-I-want-to-go-back-to-bed-tired, no. He missed that sort of tiredness.   
He was completely drained, all the time. Exhausted from the moment he awoke to the moment he fell asleep.   
  
He didn’t want to leave the room, didn’t want to go anywhere.    
Didn’t want to think about what he had done.   
  
_ Because it would just trigger the wounds within me to open wide. And the poisonous insects, memories, would come to feast. _ _  
_ _ Even though I tore open the wounds first and said, come here and gnaw in me. _ _  
_ _ Even though it’s my fault. _ _  
_ _  
_ Flake pulled his legs to his body and pressed them do his chest, turned over on his side with his hair all over. Wished he wouldn’t have woken up, wanted to crawl back into slumber.   
But his body wouldn’t allow that. He only ever got a few hours of sleep in one sitting and no more, whether that was in the afternoon, at lunch, or in the small hours of the night.   
  
Rolling off the bed, almost falling onto the wooden floor. Flake pushed the closet doors open- and the first thing he saw was one of the shirts he’d used  _ there _ . In the cold darkness beneath the floor he stood on.   
Flake took the shirt out of the closet and held it in his hands- it was white and striped with blue. 

_ The one Till saw me in. The one I wore that day. _ _  
_ _  
_ And just like that, it fell apart. Flake’s fragile protection against himself and the thoughts that intruded. It all came back, the memories and flashbacks.    
_ The smell. He swore he could still smell the old odor of blood and cold walls on the shirt. _   
  
_ The wounds have opened wide and the flies are long here. They sat on me until I tore up. _   
  
Flake didn’t realize he was crying until the tears bounced off the shirt. He gave up.   
  
_ Jagged roof. Lights dimming as I closed my eyes, the steady beating of Till’s heart when he embraced me once more.  
_ _ A few tears singling down my cheeks. _ _  
_ _ Silence.  _ _  
_ _ “Nobody has been here alive except for you and me.” _ _  
_   
White ceiling, no lamps. Lights dimming as Flake closed his eyes.   
_ Let me go. _ _  
_ The blood rushing up to his head made it hard to think.   
_ Forgive me. Let me forget. _ _  
_ Flake wept, alone. Till hadn’t woken yet.   
_ Wipe me away. Let me disappear. _ _  
_ Silence.   
Nobody will be here for me.   
_ Forgive me. Exempt me. _   
  
Flake dropped the shirt to the floor and closed the closet doors.   
He decided to wear the same clothes as the day before. They still were crowded in a mess on the floor. Same jeans, same yellow shirt, same underwear. Didn’t bother putting his hair up.   
  
He walked out of the room, down the hall, past all the doors. Ended up in the kitchen and took a seat on one of the chairs, hands loosely intertwined in his lap.    
Looked out the window- spring was growing outside. The sun couldn’t warm him.   
_ I’m alone. _ _  
_ _ Forgive me. I give up. _   
  
**PART II  
**   
_Scratch, scratch, click._ Pencil against paper.   
_Scrape, scrape, ruffle._ A chair dragging back and forth a short distance across the floor. Ruffle- hair being swept away from a face.   
Sunlight shone down upon the wooden table of the small kitchen. A few chairs crowded around the table, leaving only a small corridor to the rest of the room- fridge, cabinets, a stove and sink all lined up on the wall opposite to the table.   
  
_Scrape, scratch, scratch, ruffle._ Till and Flake sat by the table, the latter writing and the former sitting with his head in his crossed arms.   
  
Morning had turned into midday as Flake sat pondering his thoughts in the kitchen for an hour before Till came to check where he was.    
Flake didn’t respond to Till’s greeting, only kept looking out the window.   
Till grew concerned, asking Flake if the memories had come back again, if he needed a breather. Eventually, he gave up and took a seat. Flake could answer when he wanted to.   
  
At some point, Flake had gotten a pencil and paper after looking out the window for hours on end. He began writing, but not of what he saw outside, no. Rather, something hidden deep inside, where no light reaches.   
  
Light began spilling onto the table.    
Outside, spring continued displaying its newfound glory with pride- flowers in cracks in the concrete sidewalk, tree pollen twirling in the gentle breeze. Birds that had emigrated in the winter sat outside, high up in the trees, chirping as always.    
A lovely day, all in all. A sign of summer coming, the eventual sunny evenings and laughs shared outside.   
  
Yet none of those things found its way through the window, none of that could block out the noise of _scratch, scratch, ruffle, scrape, click._   
Not a single sound other than _scratch, click, ruffle_ to indicate the presence of two people in the small kitchen.   
  
_Scratch, click._ The noises became letters and the letters became words. The words grew in number, and the words became sentences. The sentences developed meaning, and the meaning became apparent- and then, it was done.   
  
Flake carefully folded his paper in half and rose from his chair with a final  _ scrape _ .   
He stuck the paper between Till’s folded arms, best he could, and leaned down to kiss his cheek.   
  
“ _Sunshine_ ,” Flake said “you are my sunshine.”   
And with that, he walked into the hall, wiping tears off his face.  _ My final words are of love to you. _   
  
Flake stared at the door leading out into the spring, the warmth. The end.   
_If I leave now,_ he thought, _I’ll never come back. But I’ll be free of the memories._ _  
_ He looked down.   
_ Till will be glad to have me gone. He won’t have to bear the weight of my conscience, won’t have to see me.  _ _  
_ _ Or, no, not the human being of me. I don’t even believe he’s anywhere in there anymore. _ _  
_ _ No, what I did. That’s what he’ll be free from.  
  
_ _ Jagged roof. Lights dimming. Forgive me- _ what Flake had said in the basement now stood in the note he’d written for Till.   
Sitting still, hands intertwined in his lap, Flake felt the tears burn. He let them come.   
Feeling no shame for his emotions or what he was about to do.   
He stood up from the bench in the hallway and braced himself.    
Spring was a beautiful sight. Proud, independent, long awaited. Flowers, trees, birds, sunshine.   
Ethereal.   
  
Yet none of those beauties could compare to Flake’s own sunshine, why by then had stormed into the hallway to find his boyfriend with his hand pressing the door handle almost the whole way down.   
Not even spring could shine bright enough to kill the darkness Till chased away as he tore Flake from the door, a scream tearing through his throat, and held Flake so close to him neither could breathe.   
Till cried. Flake cried. The note on the kitchen table laid as a jarring reminder of what would have happened if Till had been too late.   
  
“I’ll make sure you’ll never have to return here,” Till said through the tears “-and that I never have to see that note again.” He sulked on the words and burst into tears, crying into Flake’s shirt.   
The words, interrupted by sobs and sulks, hung in the air.    
Then they came crashing down with force.   
  
The two sank to the hallway floor and cried, cried, cried. Weeks of recovering from the basement and what had happened there was spilling onto shirts, onto the floor, running down tousled hair.    
“You are my sunshine.” Flake said again, sighing deeply.   
“You’ll never know dear, how much I love you-” Till continued, singing quietly.   
“So please don’t take my sunshine away.” 

//  
  
What happened that morning was one of the worst things in Till’s life.

_Waking up, oddly enough no Flake_. A basement shirt was thrown on the floor and Till didn’t need any more clues- _Flake must've been anxious about his memories again._ _  
_ Then, getting nothing out of Flake when he found him. Giving up and dozing off to the repetitive sounds of _scratch, click, scrape, ruffle._  
Then opening his eyes to find a note in which Flake explained why he was going to end his life. And begging for forgiveness.  
  
But it was also then, that morning on the hall carpet, that Till realized he loved Flake. Too strongly to ever be able to see him go.  
He wanted their lives to start anew, together. A life past the basement, and past goodbyes.   
A new life where no memories come back and where no hands are bloodied.  
  
A life without that jagged roof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You read to the end???? I LITERALLY love you. If you left a kudos or a comment, we would appreciate that a lot :)


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